


Apprentice

by charivari



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Angst, Apprenticeship, Empurata, Guns, Memories, Mental Instability, Rage, Threats, Whirl Being Whirl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 13:28:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4608528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charivari/pseuds/charivari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whirl takes Ten under his wing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apprentice

Ten's ability as a craftsmech doesn't escape Whirl's notice. He's seen Tailgate's stupid hoverboard. He's seen the tiny figurines. Child's play. He takes it upon himself to teach the Legislator something with a bit more sophistication.

"I'm taking this," he tells Rung at the end of one session, scooping up the chronometer on his desk, "Give it back later."

He's out of the room before Rung can ask for an explanation.

Swerve tells him where Ten's hidey-hole is. Whirl crawls through the vents and startles Ten by dropping down unannounced. He's working on another one of those stupid figurines. That is, until Whirl's presence drives him backwards against a wall.

"Stop cowering you big lug," he tells him.

But Ten continues to cower, uttering his name pitifully. Maybe he thinks Whirl is here to kill him. Kill him like he did countless other Legislators on Luna 1.

Whirl usually doesn't mind fear. But it's getting in the way of his ambition. Plus Ten's utterances are grating on his nerves.

"Ain't here to hurt you..." He realizes the irony as he points a gun in Ten's direction. He's strapped for time in case Magnus drops by. "But if you don't move back to that work bench, I'll blow your helm off."

The threat is effective. Ten moves, cautiously, fearfully, back to the workbench.

"Good," Whirl croons, "I gotta present for you Tenny. See."

Without lowering his gun, he shows him the chronometer. A small sliver of curiosity breaks through the fear on Ten's face.

Tentatively he reaches his hands out.

Whirl drops the chronometer just shy of his reaching fingers. It hits the floor and bounces. Not enough to break but Ten still lets out a distressed cry.

He's bending to gather it up when Whirl crushes it under his pede. This time Ten lets out a wail.

Whirl lifts his pede, watching Ten move to scoop up the pieces.

He remembers his first watch, given to all the members of the Aerial Corps. A shoddy piece of craftsmechship. It broke more easily than Rung's chronometer.

He remembers studying the various cogs, attempting to piece them back together.

That was the moment he knew. Knew he wanted to make watches. Superior watches.

Ten is staring at him like he's crushed a person under his pede. A sign of a true artist, mourning the destruction of an object, the labor that went into its creation.

But he has a lot to learn. The assembly of Rung's chronometer was average at best.

There's room for improvement. 

"Gotta be broken properly to fix it," Whirl tells him, "Make sure you get all the pieces. Then we can get to work."

Ten cocks his helm uncertainly.

"Hurry up," Whirl hisses, waving his gun, "Not going to repeat myself."

Ten hastens to obey. But in his haste he is overwhelmingly gentle with the chronometer's fragments. He sets them down on the workbench with a great deal of care.

It's a good sign. Watch-making requires delicacy, patience. Skills Whirl had, once upon a time, before he lost his hands. Now there's only impulse and impatience.

But there's one thing they didn't take with his hands. One thing that's still stayed with him over time.

And that's how to piece together a watch.

"Do everything I say," he tells Ten, "If you don't, you answer to my gun, okay?"

Ten nods. The gun's presence, perhaps Whirl's overall presence, continues to make him wary. But there's fascination as he follows Whirl's instructions, a fascination reminiscent of Whirl's own, the first time he worked on a watch, fingers clumsy but finding their groove, becoming accustomed to the feel of each gear and cog.

Memories trigger rage. If he gave in, he would probably beat Ten to death in a matter of minutes. But he holds back. If he lashes out at Ten now, it's over. The chronometer will be half-fixed. He'll be banished from the ship if Magnus has any say in it.

His knowledge will never be passed on. 

Whirl knows he needs this more than the quick fix of a rampage. He struggles to keep it together, growling orders at Ten in the process.

The Legislator performs admirably under duress. He's had experience with Swerve and craftmechship is his strong point. His fingers never stumble, following Whirl's instructions to the tee.

Piece by piece, Rung's chronometer is painstakingly returned to life.

It's beautiful. Almost as beautiful as one of Whirl's watches.

In the midst of admiring it, he's fighting the urge to smash it into pieces and punch Ten in the face.

He needs to leave. Before he does either.

"Not bad," his voice shakes and he hates it, "I'll find ya something different to work on tomorrow."

He knows a few mecha who own portable timepieces out of nostalgia. And their quarters were always easy to break into.

"Ten," the Legislator gives him a smile and a nod.

His enthusiasm makes Whirl only want to hit him more. The obliviousness of how much danger Whirl poses. He wishes he was back cowering against the wall.

He waves his gun about just to provoke wariness back into Ten's expression.

It's satisfying. But not enough to lower his anger levels. He'll need to find another outlet soon. Shoot some space rock. Attack Cyclonus so he’ll spar with him.

But he returns the chronometer to Rung first

"Here you are nerd."

Rung catches his toss. He turns the chronometer carefully in his hands. If he can notice the subtle changes on the exterior, he doesn't say.

"May I ask what you needed it for?"

Whirl could have told him to 'frag off' or simply left the room. Instead he answers impulsively.

"Practice."


End file.
